"The Upanisadic story speaks of two birds perched on the branch of a pippala tree. One eats the fruit of tree while the [other] merely watches its companion without eating. The pippala tree stands for the body. The first bird represents a being that regards himself as the jivatman or individual self and the fruit it eats signifies sensual pleasure. In the same body (symbolized by the tree) the second bird is to be understood as the Paramatman [or Brahman]. He is the support of all beings but he does not know sensual pleasure. Since he does not eat the fruit he naturally does not have the same experience as the jivatman (the first). The Upanisad speaks with poetic beauty of the two birds. He who eats the fruit is the individual self, jiva, and he who does not eat is the Supreme Reality, the one who knows himself to be the Atman."

Here's a quote from Joseph Campbell (in The Power of Myth):

"There is a plane of consciousness where you can identify yourself with that which transcends pairs of opposites."

What happens, we ask, if we turn our attention from the affairs of This World to those of That? What happens when we identify ourselves, not with the bird who eats, but with the bird who watches?

Henry David Thoreau, the transcendentalist, put it like this:

"I am conscious of the presence of a part of me, which, (as it were), is not part of me, but a spectator, sharing no experience, but taking note of it..."

The cultivation of this "spectator" leads to Equanimity.

One cannot think of the story of The Two Birds without thinking of Lord Krishna's instructions to Arjuna in The Bhagavad Gita. In fact, many have drawn this parallel: The first bird is Arjuna, who participates in the struggles of the world. The second, then, is Krishna, who observes.

To act, and act fully and without reservation, and yet to be free of concern about the results: This is the lesson of The Two Birds.

If you check your dictionary, you may find yourself thinking, "Veracity and Honesty mean the same thing." But I'm using a special definition for this one.

On January 25, 1997, it was my great pleasure to see Dr. Huston Smith give a lecture at The Learning Annex in Los Angeles. Dr. Smith is one of the great teachers of the Perennial Philosophy, a term that describes what I have adopted as my personal "religion." In that lecture, Dr. Smith used "Veracity" to mean, "Seeing things as they are," which is one of the great virtues of Buddhism.

According to Dr. Smith, a Zen monk once explained it thus:

The mind is a mirror in which we view the world. But with every experience or thought we have, we scrawl pictures on the mirror. Thus, when we look into it, we see not the world as it is, but the pictures we have drawn on the mirror of our mind. Veracity means to erase the images we have scrawled, and to see things as they are.

This cleansing of the mirror is the job of "true religion," says Dr. Smith, suspending judgment and observing closely, without preconception or prejudice. As Hamlet said, "There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so."

This idea "synced" so much with me that I made it one of my three virtues.

* * * * * * * *

In fact, in that lecture, Dr. Smith gave his own "Virtue List." His list also had three items, and he defined them this way:

--Humility: "to see oneself as one and fully one, but not more than one"--Charity: "to look upon one's neighbors as one, and as much of one as oneself, putting their concerns on par with one's own"--Veracity: "the cultivation of a sublime objectivity which enables one to see everything exactly as it is, not skewed by one's own private interests and purposes"

Dr. Smith has chosen to express these virtues in positive terms. However, he points out in a sort of a punchline to his lecture, they are in fact the counterparts to Buddhism's "Three Poisons," thus:

These are lists that transcend the "dos and don'ts" of things like the Ten Commandments, or Buddhism's Five Precepts; instead of talking about what we should do, a Virtue List outlines what we should be.

So Christianity has The (Eight) Beatitudes of Matthew 5:3-12, where we are encouraged to be poor in spirit, to mourn, to be meek, to hunger and thirst after righteousness, to be merciful, to be pure of heart, to be peacemakers, and to be persecuted for the sake of righteousness.

Buddhism has a much shorter list: To be compassionate and wise. (There are longer lists too, of course, which we may visit later.)

Anyway, when I was on a 10-week pilgrimage back in the autumn of 2001, I developed a list that was, at least at that time, extremely important to me. It has three aspects, which will constitute this week's three posts. Within each statement, I'll also tell you why that virtue was important to me at the time.

First up: Honesty.

As the sage Billy Joel said, it's hardly ever heard, but mostly what I need from you.

Jesus said it's not what goes into a man that makes him dirty, it's what comes out of him. What we do and say tells a lot about what we are.

Although honesty is incredibly important, I think it often needs to be tempered by other virtues--kindness, for example--but in the final analysis it can't be sacrificed to anything.

While on my pilgrimage, I took 10 traditional Buddhist pilgrim's vows, a list of "dos and don'ts" for the pilgrim. They were:1. Do not kill.2. Do not steal.3. Do not engage in inappropriate sex.4. Do not tell lies.5. Do not flatter others untruthfully.6. Do not speak badly of others.7. Do not be deceitful.8. Do not be greedy.9. Do not get angry.10. Do not cause wrongful thinking by others.

It's interesting to note that three of these (numbers 4, 5, and 7) are directly about honest speech; number 2 is about honest action; and number 3 is about honest dealings with the opposite sex. Number 10 is also about encouraging honesty in others.

So six of the ten vows that I was under at the time were centered on honesty.

This is interesting, because in many ways Japan is a big country for--how can I say it?--un-honesty. I don't mean it's a nation of liars. I mean that wa (harmony) is often more important than directness.

It's an often-told story: The American insists on a two-week delivery date. The Japanese side knows that this is impossible. But instead of a direct "No way, Jose," the Japanese say something like, "Delivery on time is very important" meaning "We can't do it, so we aren't going to promise." The American hears this as "Can do." Later, then, he says he's been lied to. But all the Japanese did is avoid confrontation and maintain wa.

Another important idea is the difference between tatemae and honne. The first is the "public face"; the second is the true idea or feeling. Wearing your tatemae in public promotes wa; going around telling your true feelings would destroy it. So group unity is more important than telling your true opinion.

We do this, too. If you ask a near-stranger, "How are you?" and he begins reciting a list of troubles, you'll be horror-stricken. You usually want to hear, "Fine, thanks" and move on.

But the kind of honesty I'm talking about goes beyond such ideas of social custom. I'm talking about authenticity, about finding the life you want to lead, and then living it. As Polonius says, if we are true to ourselves, we can't be false to others. I hope that when I die people will say, "He was true to himself. He followed his bliss." For better or for worse.

Later on, when I was alone, I suddenly thought: "I'd like to call that kid 'Bob.'" I was thinking about one of my greatest friends ever, actor Robert Urich, who had died of cancer at the too-young age of 55. So the next time I saw this Chinese boy, I asked, "Would it be OK if I gave you a name?"

A day or two later, I was taking photos in the first floor of the Tian Guan Hall. My usual entourage of Diego, Brian, and Bob were with me. I had figured out two of the three main figures in the Hall, and, not really addressing anyone, I mused aloud, "I wonder who that is?" while looking at the left-hand figure.

"That is Da Shi Zhi," Bob said.

"Really? Bob, how do you know that?" Da Shi Zhi is not one of the more well-known bodhisattvas.

"I lived in a temple for a year," he explained.

"Why?" I asked.

"I had...a...disease," he said, struggling for the word "disease."

This, I thought, bore investigating.

* * * * * * * *

Tuesday night, Master Ji Qun conducted a Question and Answer session. Afterward, he distributed copies of his books for free, and graciously signed them for as many kids as requested him to. To my surprise, many of the kids came over and asked ME to sign their books, also!

Bob did, too; but instead of just "name and date," he asked me to write the name I had given him.

So I wrote:

I, James Baquet,on this 18th day of July, 2006,do give you the nameBobin honor of my great friend.

After reading it, he asked me about this other Bob. So I told him that he was a TV star who had passed away four years ago. "Sorry," he said, eyes on the floor, and that was that.

* * * * * * * *

Hangin' in the Courtyard

The next day, lounging around in the temple courtyard, I finally had a chance to ask Bob his full story. Occasionally Diego had to jump in to help with translation, but mostly, Bob and I did this in English.

Two years ago, at age 21, Bob was diagnosed with bone cancer in the shoulder. His elder sister went to a Buddhist nunnery and asked the nuns if Bob could stay there to convalesce. (Apparently that temple was set up to receive such guests.) So Bob stayed there for half a year, then moved to another such place for nine more months. At the end of this time, he was cancer-free.

"Did you receive medical treatment during this time?" I asked.

"No," he said, "only tests."

I was overwhelmed. This boy had been healed by nothing more than peace and quiet--and prayer.

I told him that, in fact, "my Bob" had died of cancer. We agreed that having this new Bob as my friend was a sort of a happy ending.

I then asked him if he was thinking of being a monk. (The kids had asked me this question in class a few days earlier, and I had answered, "Ask my girlfriend"--who is now my wife.)

Bob answered that he was thinking about it, but that it wasn't good to be a monk if you were (he asked Diego the word) "hesitant."

HumanisticSpirituality

Who doesn't want to be happy? Humanistic Spirituality embraces and explores all paths--religion, the arts, film and literature, philosophy, science, current events, one’s own intuition--as ways of achieving happiness (the layman's word for "enlightenment").